


Four Loves

by Impressioniste



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impressioniste/pseuds/Impressioniste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four short, related drabbles about the relationship between Hawke and Anders, and its progression. Titles are derived from the four Greek words to explain love / concepts of different kinds of love. Includes endgame spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -storge-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlossomsintheMist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/gifts).



> Written as a birthday gift for SakuraTsukikage. I hope you enjoy it, buttecup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theme: -storge- [instinctual, familiar affection]

_“We’ve only just met, and I feel like I know you.”_  
 _“I appreciate your help and support.”_  
 _“You are the one bright light in Kirkwall.”_

Karl’s blood is still caked in dark, terrible streaks on his knife when Hawke confronts him about Justice, and when their eyes finally meet, Anders feels like Hawke’s sharp, hard gaze can see right through him, right through every falsehood and act of misplaced altruism, every good intention gone awry. He knows he could lie, but lies are exhausting, even more exhausting than the truth, and at this point, he has nothing left to lose.

He reaches out, and is not turned away. And then, against his better judgment, he trusts.  
  
The truth comes out—fast and slow, confused and clear, definite and uncertain, too much and not enough, all at once. Anders chooses his words carefully, but there are no words for some of the feelings coursing through him, and he finds himself stumbling through uncharted territory, with Hawke as the solitary light in the darkness, a safe, familiar lighthouse in the chaotic sea within him, guiding him straight and true through the frightful unknown.


	2. -philia-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theme: -philia- [love between friends / kinship]

_“One day, the world must see us as people. Help me make that happen.”_  
 _“Your support has meant the world to me.”_  
 _“We will fight for a world where our children can be born mages and free.”_

Hawke’s hand rests lightly on Anders’ shoulder as they both lean over a shabby, uneven table in the clinic. Anders’ manifesto is laid out in front of them, covered in splotches and scratches and smudges, written and rewritten and re-rewritten until they can scarcely recall what Anders’ hands look like when they’re not covered in ink-splattered callouses.

Hawke’s eyes gaze sharply at the words on the paper, his fingertips gliding over some still-wet spots of ink as he proofreads the text.

“Move this part here?” he suggests, pointing from one location to another, and Anders makes the notation on the paper, nodding silently to himself.

“Do you think the introduction has enough of a hook?” Anders muses, turning his head to face Hawke with a pensive expression on his face.

“Life, love, and liberty, isn’t it?” A hint of a smile sweeps across Hawke’s lips as he speaks, and Anders is suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that their free, empty hands lying side-by-side on the table—close, but not quite touching.

Anders nods, sliding his hand tentatively over Hawke’s. Against all Anders’ expectations, Hawke does not pull away, and he realizes with both surprise and affection that he truly cannot remember the last time his heart felt so at ease.

_“What more does a man need?”_


	3. -eros-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theme: -eros- [intimate, romantic, passionate love]

_“Would you tell the world, the Knight Commander, that you love an apostate, and will stand beside him?”_  
 _“It means more than I can say to have had a partner these past three years. It makes me believe we can do anything.”_  
 _“It is still a thrill to turn and see you beside me.”_

Anders wakes with a start in the middle of the night, his heart beating frantically as rivulets of cold sweat trickle down the length of his back, prickling against the flesh between his shoulder blades. He throws back the bedcovers out of habit, forgetting for a moment that he no longer sleeps fully clothed and booted and armed, ready to bolt for the door at a moment’s notice; that he is no longer lying on an uncomfortable cot in his clinic, but rather a soft, warm, comfortable bed in a lush Hightown bedroom with Hawke’s large, solid body tucked in close beside him.

The cool, ambient night air brushes against his sweat-damp skin, leaving him feeling clammy and uncomfortable and wholly unpleasant, but it brings him back to his senses, at least in part, and he reminds himself to simply breathe in deep and close his eyes, that there are no darkspawn or templars or wardens there to take him away, even if he cannot seem to banish the voices calling his name from somewhere inside his own head.

It takes him another moment to realize that the voices are really only one voice, and that it is not coming from from inside his head, but rather from beside him, soft and low and concerned as Hawke reaches for him in the darkness, sweetly stroking his sweat-slick hair and goosebumped skin until the chill inside him has passed and he feels warm and whole and safe again.

“I’m here,” Hawke murmurs against the back of Anders’ neck. The comfortingly familiar scrape of beard against his skin soothes Anders' anxiety, and he leans further into the embrace without reservation.

“I know.” Anders tilts his head slightly to the side to give Hawke room and opportunity, and finds himself rewarded with a brush of warm lips and rough teeth that graze along the full length of his neck, from the dip behind his ear to the hollow at the base of his throat. Once Hawke deems his skill at leaving love bites satisfactory enough, he turns Anders around in his arms to cup his chin and kiss him full on the mouth. Anders responds eagerly, his arms naturally sliding around Hawke’s neck without a second thought, and what was originally intended as a single, deep, affectionate kiss becomes another, and another, and another.

Anders loses count somewhere between four and fifteen; Hawke doesn’t bother counting at all.

“Always,” Hawke says several minutes later, a delayed response in between kisses when they finally pause for breath.

 _‘Me, too,’_ is the phrase that hangs heavy from the tip of Anders' tongue, trapped between his lips; it is the response he desperately **wants** to give, but he knows it will not be the truth—no matter how much he wants it to be—and he cannot bear the thought of hearing himself give voice to that lie, whether Hawke actually believes it, or not.

Instead, he swallows the words that taste of poison, and they sink in his stomach like a lump of cold lead. And then, almost as if he _knows_ , Hawke is holding him impossibly tightly, embracing him with the conviction of all the years of love they have behind them, and Anders stops thinking of lies, and concentrates on truths, instead.

He clings to Hawke for comfort, for solace. Hawke is his rock in the middle of an endlessly raging river, his shelter in the center of an uncontrollably chaotic storm, his sanity in the midst of a world that so often seemed to be going completely mad.

He still cannot bring himself to lie, but neither can he bear the complete and utter silence that hangs heavy all around them, so he reaches into the deepest part of himself, the part that is both most vulnerable, but also the most truthful and sincere, and brings forth the only three words he can manage to find, three words that will never, ever be lies.

“I love you,” he says.

Hawke simply holds him, and does not let go.


	4. -agape-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theme: -agape- [pure, unconditional, altruistic love]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agape: _“Many have thought that this word represents divine, unconditional, self-sacrificing, active, volitional, and thoughtful love.”_ \- Wikipedia

_“You are the one shining light in my life.”_  
 _“You are the most important thing in my life. But some things matter more than my life, more than either of us.”_  
 _“Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you. And there will be no templars to tear them apart.”_

Hawke was _tired_ of expectations and assumptions.  
  
Everyone seemed to be so quickly eager to tell him that it was perfectly normal to feel angry, or hurt, or betrayed. They spoke to him quietly, pulled him aside for private looks and conversations as if to say, “ _We understand_.”  
  
But Hawke didn’t need understanding. He didn’t feel angry, or hurt, or betrayed. He **had** felt those things, but those emotions had been brief and fleeting, and paled in comparison to what he felt now, after he had a chance to really sit down and stop and think and feel and decide things for himself, rather than trying to figure everything out while a broken city’s infrastructure crumbled down around him.  
  
They were away from the city, now, traveling in the hills and trees. Well-worn paths and populated towns were out of the question, they’d be caught before they could find so much as a place to sleep for the night. So they stuck to the mountains and forests for cover, and it was slow going, but at least it was marginally safer than the alternatives.  
  
No one spoke to Anders.

To be fair, Anders had not spoken in days, either—not to anyone. He had walked alone, eaten alone, slept alone. Isabela and Varric had both given it their best shot, but nothing they said had been able to shake a response out of Anders. He had utterly shut down, completely closed up inside of himself, and nobody really knew what to do to get him to open up, again. He had repeatedly refused both food, and water, accepting only the bare minimum necessary for survival, and looked thinner and paler than Hawke ever recalled seeing him, before, even at his worst.

“You should have killed him when you had the chance. It would have been a mercy.” Fenris had muttered one morning, though Hawke had pointedly ignored the comment.

“They must not have a word for, ‘tact’ in Tevinter,” Varric quipped, trying to defuse any potential lingering unpleasantness, but Hawke was already over it before Varric even opened his mouth.

The little makeshift camp was filled with an uneasy, awkward quiet until Anders suddenly spoke up.

“He’s right, you know.”

Anders’ statement was greeted with complete and total silence. It was strange to finally hear him speak after so many days of refusing to do so, and before Hawke had the chance to ask for a modicum of privacy, the others seemed to understand what to do, and were clearing out to give Hawke and Anders space to talk.

Hawke set himself down on a rough-cut tree stump beside Anders, who was simply sitting on the bare, dirty ground.

“They’re worried about you,” Hawke said, quietly.

“They’re _afraid_ of me,” Anders replied, his tone so very defeated and deadpan that it tugged at Hawke’s heartstrings.

“You should eat something. The dog nearly mistook your leg for kindling.” Hawke knew he sounded stupid, but the tiniest hint of a smile touched the corners of Anders’ eyes and lips, and it was worth it. He didn’t really know what to do other than to try and change the subject, and to actually get Anders talking about things that weren’t utterly fatalistic.

It only worked for a moment, however.

“Fenris is right, Hawke.” Hearing his name from Anders’ lips again, in Anders’ _voice_ again, sent a sharp little ache knifing its way into Hawke’s heart.

“That’s enough, Anders.”

“It isn’t!” Anders raised his voice, and Hawke’s brow shot up in surprise. He leaned back on the tree stump and carefully regarded his lover’s tired, exasperated face.

“Anders—”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Hawke paused and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t the right thing to do,” he looked directly at Anders, who was averting his eyes. “It wouldn’t have made anything better. What would it have solved?”

“I deserved to die. After what I did—”

“You can’t make amends if you’re dead.”

Anders paused for a very long time, wringing his hands in the middle of his lap. “And if I can’t control myself?” The fear in his voice was raw and very, very real.

The truth was that Hawke had actually considered it, but had ultimately refused to make any snap judgements with Anders’ life hanging in the balance like that. He needed more time to think about it, and time was the one thing he did not have the luxury of at that point, with Sebastian making demands and chaos erupting within the city. But still, it wasn’t right to simply cut Anders down then and there. He would be held accountable, but… not like that.

“If that happens…” Hawke replied, very slowly and deliberately. “I’ll take responsibility.”

“He’s still inside me. Justice. I can still feel him.” Anders looked at the ground, and then out towards the trees. “But it’s… different. He seems… appeased. Sated.”

“Perhaps because he’s served his purpose?" 

“I… I don’t know.” Anders looked up and met Hawke’s eyes for the first time since the conversation had begun. All Hawke could think was that he looked so very lost, so very defeated, and so very, very broken.

“I tried to plan it out, you know.” Anders’ voice was soft again, his eyelids fluttering rapidly to hold back a torrent of unshed tears. “I tried… I _wanted_ to make it easy for you. To kill me. You and Justice… I thought I’d be freeing you both. I never believed you’d let me live, let alone want anything to do with me ever again.”

“We can’t always get what we want." Hawke's reply was gentle, but firm. "Sometimes, other people make our choices for us.”

Anders laughed at that, an angry, bitter, rueful laugh that sent tears spilling down his pale, hollow, roughly stubbled cheeks. He knew exactly what Hawke meant by that, the meaning of all the words he was skirting around, the things that he did say, and the things that he _didn’t_.

They had both forced each other into making difficult choices that neither had wanted to make.

“All we can do is live with those choices,” Hawke continued. “and try to do better.”

Anders simply nodded, teardrops landing silently on the dirt at his feet, leaving tiny dark spots all around him.

Hawke reached out for Anders and pulled him close, wrapping one arm around his shoulders to hold him. Anders’ head pressed heavily against Hawke’s thigh, his tears soaking through the fabric of his trousers as he wept.

“You really believed I’d given up on you.” It was as much a question as a statement, and Hawke hardly expected Anders to answer through his tears. Anders quickly got hold of himself, though, and his sobs were calmed and quieted by the light touch of Hawke’s hand rubbing small circles against his back.

“Why not?” Anders finally replied, when he was capable of speech again. “Everyone else did.” He smiled bitterly. “Even Justice didn’t trust me anymore. To him… I hadn’t kept my word.” Anders wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked back down at the ground. “I failed you. I failed him. I failed… everyone, really.”

“Anders…” Hawke began, reaching over and grabbing hold of Anders’ chin, forcing him to look up while he spoke. “I have known you for six years. Lived with you for three. I’ve seen every part of you you ever felt comfortable enough to share with me, and never turned any part of you away.”

Hawke’s thumb rubbed an affectionate path along the line of Anders’ jaw, stroking the stubble there gently. “I’ve seen you talk. I’ve watched you write. I’ve seen you get shot down and brushed aside on a near-daily basis for the last three years, only to come home even more determined to make a difference next time. I’ve watched you wake up every day to face impossible odds and people who refuse to listen to anything you say. I’ve seen you struggle to help others with no regard for yourself. I’ve seen you get angry. I’ve seen your tempers, watched you say and do things I didn’t agree with. I’ve seen the best and worst of you. And I’m still here.”

Anders was truly, honestly speechless. He could only sit idly there on the ground with his face cupped in Hawke’s palm, staring up at him while fighting back more tears.

“I don’t think what you did was right,” Hawke continued, pausing to gather his thoughts. “But there, at the end, there _was_ no right choice. You did what you had to do. You didn’t fail, Anders. Something, or someone, failed you.”

“I did it for us,” Anders whispered, almost inaudibly, his voice thick with emotion. “For mages. All of us. I just couldn’t bear it any longer, living every day knowing that more and more of us were being stripped of everything that makes us human, everything that gives us any reason to live at all. I had to do _something_.” He closed his eyes and leaned into Hawke’s palm as his fingers splayed out across his cheek. “What we had together… everyone deserves a chance at that.”

 _‘What we had together…’_ Hawke noted Anders’ painfully obvious use of past tense, and it hurt more than he thought it would.

Silence hung in the air around them, awkward and dark and heavy, waiting for someone to be the first to break it. Finally, Hawke was the one to take the initiative, his fingers trembling against Anders’ cheek as he spoke.

“I still love you.”

Anders was at a loss for words. He felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. What could he possibly say to that? Instead of talking, he threw himself into Hawke’s arms, burying his face against his huge, broad chest.

“I… betrayed your trust. I lied to you,” Anders finally managed to choke out.

“I know,” Hawke sighed, wrapping his arms around Anders, nearly crushing him in an impossibly tight embrace. “And I forgive you.”

“Hawke,” Anders gasped, trying to fill his lungs, but not really caring that he was being held too tight to breathe properly. “I don’t underst—”

“You saw what anger did to Sebastian. You saw what anger and hatred and fear did to Meredith, and the rest of Kirkwall. I **was** angry. I **was** hurt. But _I let it go_.”

Hawke loosened his grip on Anders, just enough to pull their faces together in a clumsy, impromptu kiss.

“I didn’t want that to happen to us. I _don’t_ want that to happen to us.” Hawke’s voice was soft and slight again, almost pensive. Anders could feel the love in it, the unbreakable adoration and acceptance despite all the pain lingering just below the surface.

Hawke held Anders’ face in his hands, and kissed him once more—gently, this time, on the forehead.

“Nothing you do could make me stop loving you.”

For a moment, Anders thought his heart stopped beating entirely. He wondered if he was in the throes of some terrible fever dream, and if that was the case, he hoped he would never wake up.

But he wasn’t sick, and it wasn’t a dream.

Despite everything that had happened, despite everything he had done, all of his self-loathing and despair began to melt away from the terrible, ugly, tangled knot it had formed inside his heart.

And he smiled.

“Forgive me?” Hawke prompted at the sight of Anders’ smile, the first he’d seen in longer than he could remember. “For not killing you?”

“I forgive you,” Anders replied, getting to his feet and lacing his fingers through Hawke’s, tugging him up along with him. “With all my heart.”

Hand in hand, they left the little makeshift camp, venturing deeper into the surrounding hillside until they reached the forest. By the time their companions returned, the two of them had vanished without a trace, save for a dozen scattered teardrops in the dirt and a trail of dusty footprints that stopped abruptly at the forest’s edge, then disappeared from view.

  



End file.
